


Butterflies

by ChristyCorr



Category: Silver in the Wood - Emily Tesh
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristyCorr/pseuds/ChristyCorr
Summary: It's winter in Greenhollow. Henry is learning some truths about himself.
Relationships: Henry Silver/Tobias Finch
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spatz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spatz/gifts).



It struck Henry late in his second winter, all of a sudden, as he caught wind of the preparations for the village's Spring Fair: There would be no stories about _him_. Not ever.

Up until then, he'd only occasionally stopped to reflect upon the irony of his own fate: a foolish boy obsessed with collecting myths and fairytales who'd ended up becoming one himself. He'd never even realised just how wrong he'd been until it was too late. It all became so clear then: he'd been too caught up watching the rhythm of falling leaves to look up and see the trees.

They were in his bones, now, those stories, the trees and their lifeblood, their roots deep in every corner of his mind. The pulse of the forest echoed in his heartbeat. He could hear the whispers of Greenhollow, somehow both so like and unlike Tobias' voice, every time he took a breath.

Strange though this might have sounded to others, Henry took comfort in knowing he would never again be fully alone with his thoughts. There was so much to learn about Greenhollow and its inhabitants—its past, its visitors, its dangers. Some days, the hardest challenge was remembering all he had already learned about the simplest of things, stored somewhere in the jumble of his thoughts. Others, it was time itself he lost track of, though he was in truth getting better at that. Still, just last spring he'd lost entire weeks to the marvel of watching a new tree grow.

And yet: with all the wonder in his new life, here he was, mulling over the pettiest, most human of issues—if it could even be called an issue. Bramble was watching him, as amused by his antics as ever, leaning on that sapling she and Tobias were so fond of.

"It's not that I care, necessarily," he stressed for what must have been the third time.

Bramble's golden eyes glowed with humour, but she said nothing.

"It's just that, well, the manner of my death means that there's no one to spread the whole tale or write songs about it or anything."

Henry had never before really thought about whether his story deserved to be remembered. He himself was a barely noteworthy character, of course. But that the old oak rescue should be forgotten—that no one would ever know about the dryads' and his mother's bravery and sacrifice, that only _Fabian_ of all people should be immortalised as a local legend even though they'd vanquished him! That hurt somewhere small and too-human inside of him, somewhere that he hadn't even realised still existed.

To Greenhollow itself, of course, it made no difference at all. But he couldn't bring himself to let it go.

"My mother certainly didn't tell anyone, of course. And I'm still talking to villagers and going to the Hall regularly enough that no one even knows I'm dead. Charlie Bondee doesn't know the half of it, and anyway he's certainly not telling anyone a thing."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes. I just hadn't—" He stopped, struggling to put his feelings into words. "I hadn't stopped to think about the fact that people would still put out offerings for the Lord of Summer. For Fabian. That they would still tell stories of him and fear him and sing about him every year. That in all their stories and in their songs, it's like I never existed. Like none of it never happened."

Bramble let out a noise that, from a human, would've been called a huff. "Lots of stories that aren't true. That doesn't make them bad stories. Doesn't make the truth less true."

Arguing existential angst with a dryad was, as ever, a hopeless endeavour. Dryads felt things on a different level from humans—she couldn't understand the messy knot of emotions tangling inside him now. He was remembering how he'd first fallen in love with storytelling and the power of stories; how his mother had taught him about myths and fairytales, how to tell hints of truth from pure fabrication; how he'd first heard tell of the Wild Man of Greenhollow and set out to investigate the woods for himself.

Despite how much he'd changed in the past year, the story of Henry Silver still held power for him. He still cherished that foolish little boy somewhere inside him, the one who had collected stories like dead butterflies, fascinated by their colours and patterns. He didn't want to forget he'd existed. He didn't want to forget that he had chosen to love these woods and dedicate himself to their upkeep forever.

"I wish they knew they don't have to be afraid anymore. That the darkness in the forest is gone. That there's a new Wild Man here and that Tobias is out there somewhere with Mother having adventures. I know that it's barely been any time at all and that I shouldn't be upset that they have it all wrong. It just feels like—like it matters less, somehow."

"Winter comes; water freezes, turns to snow, then melts when it's warm again. Do you think water cares whether it's cold or warm, Silver? It already knows it's water."

He blinked at her for several moments, confused. "Are you saying I'm like water? Should be like water?"

" _People_ ," Bramble spat out with feeling, shaking her thorns with clear impatience. 

Suddenly, something seemed to snag her attention away and she vanished into the forest. Henry's senses caught up moments later and he felt his heart nearly burst with joy, all worries promptly put aside. Tobias was back! 

The westernmost edges of Greenhollow were unfurling, hurrying to shake the last of the winter off of their leaves, every tree bending to let in what meagre sunlight it could. 

As Tobias walked further into the forest, more changes followed: plants who were fond of him woke up from their slumber a few days early; animals hopped, scurried and ran into his path hoping for a chance encounter. Not to be outdone, Bramble had already made sure to exchange a few words with him moments after he'd entered the woods.

Henry smiled. If his forest were a cat, it would be purring. The flurry of activity that accompanied each of Tobias' visits was endearing. Tobias had no idea just how much Greenhollow adored him after all these centuries of patient, loving care. Whenever Tobias spent some time away, as he had now, the forest seemed to go the extra mile, as if trying to lure him into staying for good.

Henry sat and closed his eyes, enjoying Greenhollow rejoicing in Tobias' presence, from the smallest woodland creatures he picked up and petted to the ancient trees that got a fond, respectful nod.

Tobias had walked the wood too long for the habit not to come naturally, especially after being away for so long. Henry could feel it almost as a physical pleasure, Tobias all over him, walking in slow, careful circles, drawing ever nearer. 

Henry lay back, fingers and legs splayed against the now-dry ground. His mind was quiet, expectant, his entire focus on tracking Tobias' every step.

"Give a man ideas, that kind of reception," said Tobias when he arrived at last.

Their gazes met. For a moment, Henry assumed he was referring to the forest's warmth, but no. Tobias was eyeing Henry's spread-out body like a starving man would a feast. Henry had no doubt he himself was doing the same.

Henry felt as though he could hardly contain all the affection and pure, undiluted joy within him. It was hard, most days, to separate Henry's feelings from Greenhollow's, and when it came to Tobias, at least, he found that he didn't see much use in doing so. 

"By all means," he replied, grinning.

Tobias didn't hesitate before joining him on the ground, obviously having no scruples about getting his fancy clothes dirty. His far bulkier body covered Henry's and then some; his weight and heat felt like coming home, like his home was complete at last.

Their kisses started out frantic but soon turned unhurried, proprietary; they had centuries to spend together and they both knew it.

"You're growing out your hair," said Tobias with a smile in his voice, nuzzling at Henry's neck. 

It was true. Henry had stopped bothering to cut his hair while Tobias and Mother were away; it was fitting enough for the new Green Man, anyhow. Tobias' hair, on the other hand, was shorter, as it always ended up after his travels with Mother. They found it easier to do business when camouflaged like somewhat normal folk. He wore gentlemen's clothes, a sight Henry had yet to grow used to. Even so, he was by far and away the loveliest man Henry had ever seen.

Tobias tangled his fingers in Henry's longer curls and tugged experimentally, letting out a satisfied hum when Henry arched up in response. They enjoyed the slow, steady friction as their bodies slotted together, and Henry started to wonder just why they lived without this for so long when it felt this good.

"Bramble says you're worrying about silly things," Tobias said, lips brushing against Henry's throat. It was very distracting, though Tobias' choice of subject was not exactly the most rousing. "Want to tell me about it?"

It all seemed very far away now. "It's nothing," Henry replied, running his fingers down the fine, unfamiliar coat lining. Was it too cold for them to finish this without heading indoors? He'd never known Tobias to complain about the temperature when faced with the prospect of having sex outside, but then Tobias hadn't been here last winter.

"People things, she said," Tobias insisted gently, covering Henry's hand with his own. 

The persistence felt worrisome from a man who seldom sought to start any in-depth conversations, and Henry wondered just what Bramble had told Tobias to concern him so. But on the other hand, since becoming the Wild Man, Henry had found that when it came to certain subjects, only Tobias could understand him, given their unique overlaps. Tobias in turn had found unexpected delight in conveying with few words some otherworldly experiences that he'd never expected to share with anyone at all. So it did make sense that Tobias should worry.

"It's just—well—stories," he said, and immediately felt silly. "I mean, if anyone ever tries to source my origin, like I did with yours, there won't be anything to find." 

Tobias frowned. "I should hope so, my dear. We did our best—"

Henry shook his head. "What I mean is, there won't be anyone who can tell. No one who wasn't there knows what happened with the old oak. Everyone still thinks Fabian is powerful and threatens unmarried youths every year. No one knows you're free, or that I'm the new Green Man. In the stories they tell it's like nothing happened and his shadow still hangs over us. I don't even know why it bothers me. But it's like I don't—exist, almost. Never have."

He threw Tobias a pleading look, willing him to understand.

Tobias' eyes were full of understanding. "Stories do have power," he said, "and there's much they can change, given the chance. But there's too much that people don't know—can't know. This is only the first of many secrets that you'll build around yourself in here. There's power in secrets, too. Doesn't mean you can't have people singing stories about you or Bramble or anyone in the village someday, when you least expect it."

Henry made a wordless assenting noise, leaning his head back against the ground. Greenhollow's ever-present whispers in his mind were a warm, reassuring hum, urging him not to worry about this.

"They'll forget Fay," Tobias continued. "Time goes by, he'll become just another bit of folklore."

"Just any old faerie king," said Henry, grinning. Somehow Tobias always knew the right thing to say. The idea of Fabian's villainy being merged into a wider anonymous pattern filled him with vicious satisfaction.

"Mm-hmm," Tobias agreed. "Whereas everyone knows that there's a Wild Man living in these woods."

"Everyone, huh?" Henry's grin widened. "The new one will need to work hard to keep that reputation intact, then."

"I wouldn't worry too much," said Tobias, giving his earlobe a playful bite. "I have it on good authority that he's unforgettable."

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide, Spatz! And thanks for the beta, J!


End file.
